Unbalanced

There are more than a few things about me that leave my friends shaking their heads in amusement. Peculiar little rituals or rules that just don't seem to make any sense.

For example, I can't eat anything off of any wooden utensil. It makes me shiver just to think of it. I was a sad little school girl for many years on cafeteria-ice-cream-day. You know how those little cups of vanilla delight come...with a little wooden "spoon" taped neatly on the top? Couldn't do it. Couldn't eat off that thing no matter how much my mouth watered.

I also can't eat meat that is wrapped in paper. Now this was not a big deal until I moved to Wisconsin. I hadn't even SEEN meat wrapped in paper until then. My husband gives in to me, thank goodness, but he often tells me that we are getting worse meat at a worse price because of my little oddity. But at least I can see my meat as it sits in the freezer. No surprises there.

Another one of my peculiarities came to light as I sat at a large table during my Bible study. Two tables had been pushed together to form a large square. I sat at the lower right hand corner, Rebecca sat close to the lower left hand corner, Minda sat at the top left corner, and.....no one sat across from her. The upper right hand corner was empty.

I tried to ignore it. I did! But soon my foot began to tap; then my fingers started to twitch. Soon I'd had all I could stand, and hoping that I wasn't going to offend Heather, who was sitting next to me, I raced to the empty corner of the table, sitting down and offering a quick explanation that I just couldn't have the table be unbalanced.

I like symmetry. I love balance. I like to know that all my corners are filled and neatly in line. My mother in law underestimates the depth of this need when she tells me that off-center is the "in" thing. She doesn't realize that by placing my television on the left hand side of the wall, she is all but asking me to never enter my living room again. I just can't handle it.

As we were joking about my neurosis during my Bible study on Tuesday, my friend Linda Kuechle suggested that I blog about being unbalanced, and how being unbalanced in our relationship with God can leave us just as shaken and uncertain as I felt with that table.

I had never thought of it in that way, but she was totally right. When I spend more time watching television, or talking on the phone, or using the computer, than I do with God; I am unbalanced. I may not physically topple over, but my spiritual walk will not be straight.

Most of the time when we want to balance something, we need to make each side even. Everything has to weigh the same. That's not the case with us. God calls us to place Him as our first priority, our spouses second, our children third, and our other commitments can fall in place from there. That is how we will be balanced. We need to place most of our weight with God, because He gives us the strength to do all the other things.

I am seeing the fruit of truly doing this for the first time. I've always talked about doing it, always known that it is the way it SHOULD be done, but now I am actively seeking to balance myself by putting God first. And I can tell you that it's true...everything else gets a little bit easier.

There are going to be times in our life where we are going to feel unbalanced, there's no getting around that fact. But with most of our weight placed with God, we'll never tip over.

Between the Sunset and the City Lights

Flying at 6:00 in the morning has an amazing benefit that I certainly wasn't anticipating as I boarded the plane half awake on Friday morning. It was dark when we reached the airport, and since Steve and I had crashed at a hotel at 1:30 a.m. and woken up at 3:00, all we really cared about was the fact that the steady hum of the plane was about to become our lullaby.

As we sat down in our assigned seats, I was pleased to see that I was next to a window. The few times I have flown have either been in the afternoon or late at night, and I remembered enjoying the sight of endless landscapes and twinkling lights beneath me. "Maybe I'll just look for a little while before going to sleep," I thought, settling into my seat.

Minutes later we were in the air, and I was closing my eyes. I don't know how long I slept, but I remember the feeling of being pulled awake. I believe I thought something to the effect of, "Are you serious?!?" before cracking open my eyes to see what He wanted from me.

I've seen some beautiful things in this world: double rainbows, ice encased trees, and majestic oceans that stretch beyond the horizon. I've seen things that have made me catch my breath, and others that have brought me to tears.

But I've never come as close to seeing God personified in our earth as I did on that airplane that morning.

When I opened my eyes, I was in the middle of the sunrise.

The colors were vibrant, stretching across the sky unhindered. The clouds just below me rose and fell within themselves, a thick blanket of lavender. As the tears filled my eyes, I thought, "Good morning, Father."

I couldn't tear my eyes away. I felt like I was being given a gift, this opportunity to glimpse the magnitude of God. The overwhelming thought within me was, "God is SO big!"

"They who dwell in the ends of the earth stand in awe of Your signs;
You make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy." (Psalm 65:8)

As I sat marveling at the true greatness of our Creator, the clouds parted for a moment, revealing a city far below us. Lights twinkled from hundreds of houses and buildings; a symphony of lives represented through their glow.

It struck me, this contrast between the enormity of the sunset and the miniature reflections of light.

As I sat contemplating our relative size in comparison to God, I realized something.

God is so big. We are so small. But God's love for each of us is NOT small! I saw hundreds of lights in that one part of that one city. Hundreds of lights that represented thousands of people, and God knows each...and...every...one. He knows them intimately. And He LOVES them.

I am one person in one house in one city in one state in one country in just one continent of this world. And HE loves Me. Our great big God who created the most amazing sunrise I have ever seen, loves me. And He loves the people in the house next door, and the one next to that. We can't even imagine the number of lights we'd see if we could glimpse the entire world from above; yet He cares for each and every person as much (and more!) as we love our children.

In fact, He loves each one of us so much that He did what none of us can imagine doing. He sacrificed His one and only son. For me. For you. For your children, and your parents, and your neighbor. For billions of people you will never even see. Because His love is as big as He is. And He loves you.

John 3:16, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal Life." (NASB)

Suddenly the distance between the sunset and the city lights seems so much shorter.

Being a Permanent Marker in a Dry Erase World

When our plane landed at 12:30 this morning, I felt a wave of emotions. Steve and I had flown to my hometown in New York for the weekend to surprise my dad for his 65th birthday. The weekend was blissful, partly due to the fact that my in-laws were incredibly gracious and kept all seven of our children so that we could travel alone.

(So basically, my husband now knows that he doesn't have to rent a hut on the ocean in Bora Bora to make me feel like I've been on a vacation, he just needs to take me somewhere where I can hear myself think.)

Though I didn't get a chance to sit and write out my daily journeys with God, He was busy making sure that I didn't forget to fulfill my side of our agreement. In the still and quiet times I felt like He was constantly pointing things out to me, thoughts that I had splashed across before without really diving in.

And so it was that I found myself holding a black permanent marker and realizing that it was what I was striving to be.

Generally I shy away from this type of writing tool. They're so....permanent. I mean, you take a Sharpie marker and start writing, and there's no going back. You better hope you don't misspell a word, or change your thought mid-sentence. And if you realize after you're done that all the lines slant slightly downward? Well, it's just too bad. Because scratching it out leaves more of a mess than leaving it out there for critique.

On the contrary, I love dry erase markers. You make a mistake and with a quick swipe of the finger it's gone. Not a trace. You can fix your error and replace it with something that won't get laughed at before anyone is the wiser. I feel comfortable with them because they give me anonymous chances.

Until a few weeks ago, I was a dry erase marker when it came to my public relationship with God. Oh, I told everyone I met that I was a Christian. I would tell them that I accepted Christ as my Savior when I was 21 years old. But the nitty gritty details of my faith? The Scripture verses that popped in my head when having difficult conversations with friends who questioned the existence of God? I'd more often than not start to write them with my words with the comfort of knowing that I could wipe them away easily if I started making someone uncomfortable. Dry erase conversations; dry erase faith.

I've met Permanent Marker Christians before. I have always respected them. They represent Christ's love to anyone who they meet. And it isn't always portrayed with testimony, or Scripture, or verbal witnessing, but it's a no-questions-about-it attitude that radiates Christ's love. It's the kind of faith where it doesn't matter if your lines are crooked once in a while, or if you miss a punctuation mark. You are no longer worried about looking perfect, no longer ashamed of who you are in Him.

This is the kind of faith God asks from us. Romans 1:16 says, "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes." (NASB)

In this new generation where tolerance reigns, the world asks all people to be dry erase markers. We are to feel out the responses of our peers before making bold statements so that we do not offend others with our opinions. As long as we don't make waves, as long as we don't push our beliefs on others, our thoughts will be tolerated also.

As a dry erase marker, it wasn't about my opinion of others; it was my selfish worry about others' opinions of me. If friends came to me seeking my advice about a sin in their life, it was easier for me to say what they wanted to hear instead of the truth from Scripture because I was scared of how they would react.

Being a permanent marker is about allowing people to see who you are with no apologies.

All my life I worked to blend in. Now I can't wait to stand out.

In Sickness and In Health

I am such a baby when it comes to illness. I mean, I have given birth to four children, two of them with no pain medication whatsoever, and yet the common cold leaves me limp and lifeless in bed.

The beginning of the school year might as well be tagged as, "The children go to school and Mom gets sick." They bring home all the school children germs that my body has had three months to forget about, and inevitably I am the first to fall.

So here I am in my stuffy headed foggy world, and God is making sure that I know that there aren't going to be free-to-take-time-off sick days in my 12 month commitment to Him. Because man did I get blasted today when I decided to use my germ-y status to say No when He wanted me to say Yes.

So, here I am, keeping it real. Because I surely don't think I would tell this story to the world otherwise. But I don't want to paint a "I accepted God's challenge and now my life is rosy" picture, when the reality is that I accepted God's challenge, my life has gotten so much better, but man it's hard sometimes.

Today was insane. I didn't get to go to my Bible study this morning because I wasn't feeling well. My baby is battling the same cold I am, and those of you who have had children know how much fun a 17 month old who feels awful is. My phone rang constantly, and even though I did finally lay down and pass out for a couple hours, that time was interrupted by about 541,258 things that apparently needed my attention right then and there or the world was going to explode. So I was frazzled already when 2:41 hit - that magic time where my oldest children start streaming home from school and life goes into hyper-drive.

So just imagine constant chaos from 2:41 until 4:18. At 4:18, Kahlan came home. I quickly got off the phone with my friend because I could see the tears brimming in her eyes. As I was trying to help her work through a big disappointment she'd had that day, three of my children asked me nonsense questions, my mother in law knocked on my front door, and the phone rang.

And God said, "Be still."

And instead of saying, "Yes, God," I think I did something unladylike...like growling.

Instead of listening to Him, instead of walking away, or taking a deep breath, or just praying that He would carry me through the next three minutes, I walked out my front door.

Barefoot.

Oh, and did I mention the fact that right before I left I said to my mother in law, "You take care of the kids, I'm done being a mom"?

Yeah. Not pretty.

So I walked down the street with no shoes on, wincing as each little rock dug into my skin. And each time I flinched I thought, "That was for saying No."

So if you happen to live next to a park and happened to be doing your dishes while standing in front of your kitchen window, that strange lady who was sitting in the grass picking leaves apart was me. No, I am not trying to stalk other people's children. I was just being disobedient to my Father.

I wasn't in the park for very long. I can at least say that I felt God's presence very strongly as I sat studying the grass in front of me, and I knew that He wanted me to go home. So I sucked up my pride, said Yes, and walked home.

And it all worked out. Steve was home when I got here, he didn't think I was insane, my mother in law told me that she knew that the combination of sickness and stress was what had made me implode (versus thinking I was crazy, or a bad mother, as I imagined), and I was able to finish helping Kahlan without scarring her for life.

I listened, and He helped me. It certainly would have been much better had I listened the first time, but it wasn't as bad as it would have been if I'd said No the second time. That was another good lesson in the long line of lessons He has been teaching me in the past eleven days or so.

I kind of hoped that the woman washing dishes would have come out to see what kind of crazy woman sits alone in the grass at a park. I was looking forward to telling her that I was crazy...about God.

But maybe that will be a "Yes" moment for another day...

Fast Food Faith

So I was sitting in the McDonald's drive-thru yesterday after my Bible study.

As I was making my order and dutifully pulling forward to Window Number One, I realized something. This whole drive-thru phenomenon was so much like my walk with God a few months ago.

Though my heart yearned for a sit down four course meal with God, what I was really giving him was a Big Mac and Fries in a paper bag. Quick, easy, and cheap. I would notch that item off my to-do list and move on with my day.

But just like the fast food diet, my fast food faith left me seriously malnourished.

I needed to give God the time that He deserves. Bringing my Bible into church on Sunday and having it still be in the van the next Sunday morning didn't feed me properly. We need a steady intake of His word, His time, and His love.

Without that, we won't ever truly be satisfied.

So I'm getting better. My Bible has a new place now - on my dining room table, right by where I eat. It doesn't even get put on the shelf anymore, because I don't want it to get lost in the shuffle of the "busyness" of my days.

Sure, I still have my "Fish Fillet" moments...but now they are surrounded by Turkey and mashed potatoes.

Nursery Rhymes and Popsicle Sticks

I will never forget her face. She was four years old, with long blond hair and blue-green eyes that were always searching, taking in the world around her.

She and her younger sister were our second foster care case, and Steve and I were still a little naive when it came to the behaviors that sometimes accompany kids who have come from difficult situations.

And so, when I first discovered popsicle sticks tucked in the crevices of her bed, I figured the cat did it. Or maybe they were left there from some intricate craft that my children had done that I didn't remember. Or maybe they came with the bed.

Yep. Naive.

After all, this little girl was not the brightest four year old I had ever seen. She was cute, she was sweet, and she was funny. But I definitely had concerns about her.

You see, she and I spent three months working on a nursery rhyme. Not even a WHOLE nursery rhyme, actually, just the first line.

"Okay, let's try that again...ready? Pat - a - cake, Pat - a - cake, Baker's Man. Now you try it."

She would look up at the ceiling, then down at her feet. She'd stick her tongue out in concentration, and taking a deep breath, she'd say, "Pat cake, Bat cake, in a can."

And I would scratch my head for a minute and then repeat it for her again.

And she'd say, "Okay. Pat a cake, in a cake, in a man."

And we did this for three months. Every day.

So you can see why I didn't really think that this little girl who couldn't remember eight nursery rhyme words in a row would be capable of sneaking popsicles into her bed.

Then I made her bed one morning, and I found two more popsicle sticks...and their wrappers.

Still not quite believing it could be true, I confronted her. "Did you take popsicles and eat them in your bed?"

She nodded. (At least she was honest, right?)

My brain started mapping the steps this little girl would have to take in order to actually remove the popsicles from the freezer. "When?" I asked her.

"At night when you were sleeping," she replied.

Uh huh. Okay. So maybe she was smarter than I had given her credit for. But we have a freezer that sits on top of the refrigerator, how did she get up there? "Start up in your top bunk and show me everything you would do to get that popsicle," I said.

And she showed me. She climbed down the bunk bed ladder, walked into the kitchen, went straight for the kitchen table, pulled a chair in front of the refrigerator, stood on her tip toes, opened the freezer door, and pulled out a popsicle. "Like this," she smiled.

"Okay, but how did you get the popsicle out of the wrapper?" I was really puzzled on this one. I shouldn't have been...

because she said, "It's easy!" And she turned the popsicle upside down, put her fingers underneath the top, and then walked them up the wrapper, pushing the popsicle until the stick forced itself through the plastic. A look of triumph was shining in her eyes as she took hold of the stick and pulled the popsicle free.

And I thought, "Wow! This kid is smart!"

She wasn't nursery rhyme smart, but she sure was popsicle stick smart.

God doesn't gift us all with the same strengths. How boring a world it would be if He did! Maybe we can easily understand theology, or memorize scripture, or teach, or serve others in a trade like carpentry, or maybe we are gifted with numbers, or words.

God has given us all strengths. It's up to us to identify them and use them for His glory. They aren't going to do us, or God, any good if we convince ourselves that we aren't "good enough".

1 Corinthians 12:15-19 says, "If the foot says, "Because I am not a hand, I am not a part of the body," it is not for this reason any the less a part of the body. And if the ear says, "Because I am not an eye, I am not a part of the body," it is not for this reason any the less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But now God has placed the members, each one of them, in the body, just as He desired."

Some of us might be nursery rhymes. Some of us might be popsicle sticks. If we can stop worrying about how we compare to others who have similar gifts, and instead put that energy and effort into developing the strengths we have, imagine the good that can be done in God's name.

Baby Steps

My son started walking just a few days ago. I get so much joy out of watching him toddle across the floor, and I can just imagine what is going on inside his mind. Perhaps it is something like this:

A wobble, a step...oops, dipped to the side - steady, steady...okay, here we go. Step, step...hey, I'm really getting somewhere now! Whoa - concentrate! Good thing that wall was there. Okay...ready. Step, pick my foot up - hey, where did she come from?! Doesn't she realize I'm trying to think? Man, big sisters sure can get in your way! All right...one more step, lean to the left, lean to the right - too much right! Just a few more...and yeah! At the couch at last!

He's so proud of himself when he reaches his destination! He throws his little arms in the air, his eyes shining with excitement that he wants all of us to share. "Yea!!!!" he shouts, waiting for us to join in with our chorus of congratulations.

I feel like my son sometimes in my Christian walk, especially now that I have committed to listening closely to God and to saying Yes when He asks that of me. A temptation here, a stumbling block there, a busy moment turning into a busy weekend without a dedicated time of being quiet in Him. Wobble, lurch, hesitate, step.

1 Corinthians 10:12 reads, "Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed that he does not fall." (NASB)

But the road isn't always easy. He doesn't promise that it will be. But in the next verse He does promise this:

"No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it." (NASB)

So there it is. If we want to stand in Him, he asks us to take heed that we do not fall. But he promises that though our steps may not be easy, they will never be impossible. If we stay in Him, if we keep our feet on His path, we will reach our destination. We may be bumped and bruised, but we won't be lost.

What a relief it is to know that our burdens will never be bigger than the shoulders God has given us to carry them on.

Let's travel onward, my friends.

A Bathtub Moment

Imagine being in a nice, deep bathtub. The water is warm, and scented bubbles are making delicious popping sounds as you soak your worries away. When you're ready to end this little piece of heaven, instead of getting out of the water first, you simply open the drain.

The water level slowly drops. At first, you might not notice a difference.

But soon, you start to have a pretty uncomfortable feeling. You are getting really, really heavy. And as the water continues to drain, the heaviness quickly increases.

Pretty soon the weight of your body is almost unbearable. The thought of climbing out of the tub starts to feel like a chore. A few minutes ago you were luxuriating in warmth. Now you are shivering, exposed.

How much is this like our lives? When we walk with God, we don't even realize how buoyant we are. But if we allow our time with Him to drain away...soon we feel how truly heavy we become.

It reminds me of the end of the famous poem, "Footprints":

"This really bothered Him and He questioned the Lord about it. 'Lord you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.'

The LORD replied, 'My precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.'" (Carolyn Carty)

We're walking not in our steps, but with His. We may still at times feel vulnerable, or stressed, or lonely, but we can rest in the knowledge that we are carried by our Creator.

Now when I find myself getting "too busy" to plug in to God's Word, or be in prayer, or spend time with Him, I remember the feeling of that bath water draining away.

A moment, a passage, a prayer...and I am lifted again.

Twelve Years Ago

Twelve years ago today, I became a mother. If you had asked me about ten months prior to that day if being a mom any time soon was on my short list of to-do items, I would have laughed...loudly.

After all, I was only 19 years old. I wasn't married, in fact my boyfriend lived a thousand miles away. (Remember when a long distance phone call during daylight hours cost 25 cents a minute? Yeah, AT&T's financial department loved Steve and me. We often joke that our relationship helped fund the research necessary to develop free long distance.)

So you can imagine that when I was told, "You're pregnant!" my world kind of just stopped.

And that's when the questions started. Most frequently asked was, "What are you going to do?"

I had no idea. I was just a scared kid whose life had been one thing at 1:05, and something else completely at 1:09. How was I supposed to know what to do?

There were family members who were adamant. I was to get an abortion. Period. End of discussion. After all, I had a life to lead. I was studying to become a teacher, and I would never be a teacher if I had a baby. How could I ever finish school? Steve would never stick around, I was warned. I was a fool if I thought he would. Abortion was the only option.

I will never forget the moment after that conversation. I remember placing the phone gently back in its cradle, tears streaming down my face. My chest felt as if it had been crushed; my mind was completely numb. Was that the answer? Abort my baby? Was that what I was supposed to do?

I have never before or since heard God as loudly as I did that day. I wasn't a Christian yet, I didn't know what I believed about God and what I didn't. But God loves every one of His children, and I shook with the force of His answer.

NO!

Period. There was no room for doubt. The answer was simply, No.

And so I had a choice. And I chose to listen.

And today I watched my beautiful twelve year old daughter unwrap her presents and blow out the candles on her cake and talk about a hundred things that happened in her day, and none of those things would have happened if I had said No to God. She would not have happened. All the lives that she has touched would be different had I said No to God while sitting in my college dorm room shattered into pieces.

And guess what? Steve did stick around (we'll be celebrating our 13th wedding anniversary next year), I did finish college (only three months later than I originally planned), and I did become a teacher. And the people who wanted me to have an abortion? I came to recognize the fact that they wanted that from me because they love me, and God used my choice to minister to them, too.

I sometimes have a hard time telling this story to people who I don't know. Not because I am afraid of what they will think about me, but because I know how many women have had abortions. I don't know the pain they are going through, but I understand a little bit more than most. Because I sat there on the edge of that decision. If anyone is reading this who has been through the other side of my experience, I am sorry. Know that even though I don't know you by name, my prayers are with you often.

People have told me, "Abortion is a woman's choice. Abortion is not about the baby. It is not a life until birth."

Kahlan will boldly tell you otherwise.

Washcloth of Grace

"Mommy, can you tuck me in?" my three year old daughter yelled from down the hall.

This is one of my favorite moments in the day. Selfishly, of course, I love bedtime because it signals the end of the child-rearing portion of my day, but I also love the very act of tucking my young ones in and kissing them good-night.

I'd been away from home for an hour or so, and feeling refreshed from my recent solitude (it's pretty bad when driving for 20 minutes in a van by yourself feels like a vacation, isn't it?) I buzzed down the hallway and headed for her bed.

From about three feet away she looked like an angel. She has long, curly blond hair and a sweet little face complete with a dimple in her cheek. Her big blue eyes peered at me from over the bed railing, a look of mischief dancing across her face.

My beautiful baby girl....covered in dirt.

I'm not talking about a smudge here and there, I'm talking full-fledged mess.

Suddenly my energy began to seep away. I knew what was coming...no matter how warm I made the washcloth...no matter if it smelled like sweet summer sunshine right from the dryer, I was going to have a fight on my hands.

And then something struck me. As a mother, I hate seeing my child covered in dirt. But Aimee didn't care - in fact she told me ALL about the fun she had "digging." How much is that like us in our relationship with God? He can see our sin as clearly as we see the dirt smudges on our children. And just like my daughter, we so many times make sinful decisions because they are FUN.

Like that television show that is so completely entertaining that we ignore the fact that we are watching unmarried people having sex with multiple partners. Or the video games that we play for hours because who we are in that world is so much more appealing than who we are in this one. Or how about the time that we spent an hour on the phone with our friend gossiping about others? God sees that...and he hates it as much as we hate seeing our children when they are a mess.

What happens when we put that washcloth to a child's face? It's like throwing yourself into a wrestling ring where your opponent has suddenly grown eight arms! They squirm, and they fight, they protest and they try to get free. And what do we say? "Hold still, I'm just trying to clean you up!"

We do the same struggle with God when we say, "But I don't pay attention to the racy scenes," and "It's just for fun," and "I don't mean anything by it," and on and on.

I'm raising my hand. Guilty.

That warm, sweet smelling washcloth that we entice our children with? God's is even better. It's the Washcloth of Grace. Because when we finally stop fighting, when we become still in His presence and allow His grace to gently wipe away our sin...that kind of clean goes all the way inside.

It doesn't mean we aren't going to get dirty again. We may avoid that particular sand box in our life, but we live in a fallen world full of temptation.

But, Oh, the love of our Father...waiting to caress us clean.

One of Those Mornings...

Oh man, it wasn't pretty around here this morning.

Today was our first Late Start day of the school year. This probably sounds really great, right? Like who wouldn't want to be able to sleep in for an extra hour? Sounds blissful.

Yeah, not so much. Because apparently my morning organization depends on the preset times that I have neatly memorized...Joseph out the door at 7:05, Kayanna goes at 7:20, walk Shaylee to school at 7:40, Kahlan at 7:55. Neat, tidy, easy as pie.

This morning I had to use my brain in order to add 50 minutes to each of those times. Now maybe at 7:20 a.m. I could tack on an hour...that isn't too hard. But my brain does not add +50 very well when it is lacking food, energy, and sleep.

And so my morning kind of went like this: Is it time to get up was the alarm set correctly James stop crawling on me oh there goes the alarm can I hit snooze one more time gotta get joseph up joseph get dressed joseph get dressed joseph get dressed make breakfast gotta get kayanna up no you don't have time to shower dad's in the shower kahlan has to shower maybe you can shower i have to shower can you shower in five minutes no i don't know where your socks are yes you have gym today no i don't have any more cinnamon toast crunch oops Aimee wet the bed don't worry it was just an accident accidents happen yes it's fine don't worry honey Kahlan do you have your books together good-bye joseph let me do your hair good-bye Kayanna no Aliegha I am not ready for you yet James is trying to eat his plate time to go Shaylee Kahlan are you ready no you can't take Shaylee to school you aren't ready yet are your contacts in...

And on top of all that I had to try to add that darn 50 minutes to each departure time.

To say I was fried would be a gross understatement.

It was so bad that when I was in the bathroom trying to find a way to make myself look presentable for Bible study, Steve said, "Well, look at the bright side. At least you have material for your blog tonight."

I can't describe the look I gave him. Let's just say it wasn't very kind, and leave it at that.

And suddenly I didn't want to go to my Bible study today. I didn't want to learn about God. I didn't want to be obedient. I just wanted to turn off my life and go to sleep.

But I made myself be still for a few seconds, and even though I didn't want to, I told myself that I was going to go. Steve reminded me that I would feel better if I went, and I remembered what happened when I said No a couple days ago. So I got my stuff together and headed out to the van.

When turning on the van, I started relaxing to one of my favorite radio stations. It isn't a Christian radio station, but it has music that doesn't make my ears burn. And I felt a little convicted. I wasn't listening to my favorite Christian radio station because I knew they had talk programs at that hour, and I wanted to relax to music. But this is all about stretching myself, right? And how can I tell God that I want to give Him all of me and then decide that I am not interested in learning more about Him because I like music better? So I switched the station.

About two minutes into the featured speaker's story, she said something like this... "And then I felt that God was telling me to say Yes to Him, and so I did."

Man, did the tears flood into my eyes. This was not a coincidence. This was a God-incidence. After the morning I had, no one would have batted an eye if I told them that I skipped Bible study. It would have been *understandable*. But I didn't let my struggle keep me from doing what I felt led to do. And God, within two minutes of getting in the car, found a way to show me that I had made the right decision.

And I got to Bible study, and I LOVED it. My heart was filled, my mind was renewed, and I came home to my children a better mother than when I left.

It was a Late Start day in more ways than one...

Testing

Do you sometimes find yourself going to extreme lengths NOT to say yes to God? Maybe you tell yourself that it isn't that you're saying No, but that you're just trying to figure out whether or not God really means it. You figure that if God really wants you to do what He's asking, then His request will stand a little test or two...

"Okay, God, if you really want me to apologize to my friend, then she'll answer when I call. If I get the answering machine, I'll know I wasn't supposed to."

I've had so many of those moments. I call them, "Oh but what ifs."

One of my most memorable (and comical) times where I tested what God was asking me to do actually happened before I had accepted Christ. Steve and I were living in New York, we had just had our first child, and we were struggling. Like, "Let's share a jar of peach cobbler baby food for dessert" struggling. Steve was working two full time jobs, and I was getting ready to go back to college for a 16 credit semester. How in the world I thought for even a moment that that was going to fly is beyond me.

God knew better. He knew that wasn't the best path for us. So we started getting little clues...

I had a dream one night that we had moved back to Wisconsin. In the dream, we had family surrounding us, Steve had a better job, and all was running smoothly. I woke from that dream completely confused. Wisconsin? Really? The cheese state? The COLD cheese state?!?!

That was when that funny feeling that I now welcome began. Now, I believed that God existed back then. I didn't have any kind of relationship with Him, but I believed in Him as much as you can believe without really knowing anything at all. And I started to wonder...

A few weeks later Steve and I drove out to Wisconsin for his sister's wedding. I brought up the thoughts I'd been having, and Steve raised an eyebrow but didn't really say anything in response. He knew that I wanted to live near my family, he knew I loved New York, and he didn't want to be any part of any kind of decision that took those things away.

And so I had a brilliant idea. After all, what better way to test God than to leave it up to a game of chance?

So I bought a scratch-off lottery ticket. And I got back into the car, and as Steve watched in amusement, I "prayed" out loud...."God, if we are meant to move to Wisconsin, let me win one of these games."

(This is one of the moments in our life where Steve and I hang our heads at our own absurdity.)

I wish I could tell you that I didn't win any of the games on that ticket. Because I wish that back then I would have realized how ridiculous I was being. I really wish that I would have just stopped and given the whole thing to God in prayer; but that time in my life would come a little later.

Well, I won. Two games out of three.

And in my made up religion where a deity named God answers questions by gifting people $5.00 through convenience store cardboard, I guess I should have had my answer.

But I didn't even listen to that.

And we came home to New York. As the weeks passed, I continued to feel that same conviction that I had felt after that dream. I felt like I was supposed to move. I didn't know why, and it didn't make sense. But I believe today that God's hand was on my thoughts.

And eventually, when I just never said Yes, He made it very clear.

One week before school was to start, I received a phone call from an adviser at my college. My GPA was (I'm not kidding) two one-hundredths of a point too low for me to take the next class in my program. Two one-hundredths. I needed a 2.74. I had a 2.72. And no one would budge on the decision and let me into that class.

So we faced a choice: stay in New York and wait up to another year before I could get back on track with my degree, or move to Wisconsin and transfer into the Education program there.

Finally, I got it. The dream didn't do it, the lottery ticket didn't do it (thankfully), but those .02 points did it. That felt like God to me.

So we moved. And looking back on it, I can see so clearly why He wanted us to go. Because a little over one year later, a family who my husband had known for years witnessed to me. And I went from being a person who's life was a complete disaster - a pathological liar who self mutilated from the pain that was tearing her apart on the inside - to an honest woman of God who finally loved herself because He found her worthy of love. And God knew that my life changing moment was supposed to be here, in this town, with those people.

Why do we test Him with our little silly "Oh but what ifs?" If we feel God is leading us to say Yes to Him, and through prayer we truly feel like that is the will of God, why do we find a hundred excuses not to?

It's easier to stay in our comfort zone. It's easier to say, "I don't have to apologize to my friend because she doesn't know that it was me who said that hurtful thing," or whatever it is. It's easier to convince ourselves at the first roadblock that God must not really want us to go down that difficult path.

I challenge you to do away with the little tests. I challenge you that when God asks you to do (or not do) something, that we instead go to him in prayer. Ask for His will to be clear, and if it is pleasing to Him, and you feel He is asking you to make that choice, then make it.

Don't ask Him to prove Himself. He already did that for us. He wants our faith and our obedience, and we will be blessed immeasurably when we give it.

Yes...I Don't Want To...No

Wow, was yesterday a day! Almost immediately after making the commitment to start saying, "Yes!" many opportunities came for which I initially wanted to say, "No, thank you."

Some things were small...like forwarding the blog address to a friend who came to my mind for no particular reason as I was writing, and taking the extra time to sit and really listen to my oldest daughter talk about something that had happened during her day, and picking up the phone when a friend called during a particularly hectic evening. For each of these, and a dozen more, I at first wanted to ignore that feeling...I didn't want to be embarrassed, or I was too busy, or, or, or...

But then I took a millisecond to pause and think about saying Yes.

And, for most of them...for the ones I felt that little "feeling" about...I did.

And I was really happy that I did. Not all of them yielded "No wonder God wanted me to do this!" moments, but a couple did. Like getting that hug from Kahlan after she was done talking; a look in her eyes that told me she understood and appreciated the fact that I listened even in the chaos that was going on. And realizing as I talked to my friend that I CAN prepare supper, change the baby's diaper, direct the children, and have a great conversation all at the same time...a conversation that ministered to me, a conversation that I would have completely missed out on.

All these warm fuzzies, right? And then I went to bed at a decent hour and cuddled up to my husband, and dreamed sweet dreams of blissfulness....

Or not.

You know how it is said that when you decide to strengthen (or begin) your walk with God, sometimes the Devil takes notice? Well, I got noticed.

Steve and I rarely fight. Rarely is probably even too strong of a word. We're kind of at the step that is before rarely....like rarely rarely fight. Sure, we bicker a lot, but it is mostly just bantering that both of us enjoy. Well, sure enough, I got presented a very obvious chance to say Yes to God.

We were in the middle of a fight about something incredibly stupid. Like so stupid that if I wrote it here you would shake your head and wonder how someone could even craft an argument around that subject. But we all know how that goes, don't we? And a lot of times when we get in those arguments with our husbands, we women are right. (Sorry, guys, but it's true.)

This was not one of those times.

So we were arguing, and I felt God's fingers on my heart, and I knew that the right thing to do was stop my sharp tongue and apologize. I was truly in the wrong. I was having one of those irrational-wife-moments. The kind that really only fly when we're pregnant. That kind. And I knew it.

I even thought to myself, "This is it! I've been doing it for little things all day, but this is it! The big opportunity has arrived!"

But man, I didn't WANT to apologize. I WANTED to be ANGRY. I WANTED to make HIM sorry that he had made me upset. I was enjoying my suffering....even though it was wrong. Even though I was saying hurtful things.

And so I said No.

And two hours later, when I finally gave in and did what God had wanted me to do in the first place, I saw the love and forgiveness of my husband that I would have gotten right away. Two hours I spent in anger, in defiance, and in misery.

But God uses all things for good and for His glory for those who love Him. Though I made a mistake, I will not soon forget my "No" lesson.

Because saying, "Yes," not only gives glory to God, it also feels so much better. That's our blessing, our reward. It's so worth it.

Yes, God

This blog was not my idea.

Okay, well maybe it was in some way my idea, but I didn't really want to do it.

Well, if I wanted to do it deep within some small part of me, I didn't want to make it public. I didn't want to do it for more than a few weeks. I maybe wanted to try a half-hearted attempt where I knew that I wouldn't really ever be inconvenienced, because I would be in control. (I would say that I wasn't in control, of course, but deep down I would keep the security of knowing that I was.)

And so it was that I found myself reading in the bathtub this morning. (Where else can a mother of seven find time to read?) I happened to pick up a book that my Tuesday Morning Mom's Bible Study will be reading starting next week. The title is, What Happens When Women Say Yes to God by Lysa Terkeurst. I read the first fifty pages (it became a very long bath, special thanks to my husband that I only was interrupted by one child during that time) and had that steady warm feeling that I have come to recognize as God's light touch on my heart.

I would love to say that my responding thought was, "Hooray! Here comes an opportunity from God!" But the reality (the elbows deep in housework, scheduled to the hilt, have to change the baby's diaper AGAIN reality) is that I thought, "Uh Oh."

But there it was. And the conversation between God and I kind of went like this....(you'll notice quickly that my words are the long, rambling, excuse-filled words, and His are short, simple, and to the point...)

"I think maybe I should do this...commit to saying Yes to God."

"You Should."

"I mean, I have had those moments so many times...where I really felt like I should do something, that God had placed something or someone on my heart, and so many times I passed the opportunity by..."

"Last Time You Listened."

"And that felt so good! Just that simple act of obedience, and look what has happened from that! Well, maybe I will try."

"Do It."

"Okay, I will! I'll do it for thirty days."

"Twelve Months."

"Twelve months?!?!? Do you know how many things I have going on, God? And I haven't been able to stick with anything for more than a couple weeks, let alone twelve months!"

"Twelve Months."

"That's a year, you know, God."

"Twelve Months."

"Okay, fine. A year. I will write about it in my journal."

"Publicly."

"Where everyone can see it?? No, thank you."

Silence (we've all had these Silent Moments from God, haven't we?)

"Okay, publicly. I'll start later."

"Now."

"Right, now, okay. Well, Aimee (my three year old) is using the computer. I guess I'll have to wait until later."

"Now."

"Right. Well I'll just tell Aimee..." my thought trailed off as I walked into my bedroom and saw that Aimee had already left.

Suppressing a sigh and a huge moment of anxiety, I sat down and silenced Dora's latest adventure with Boots and Map. "Yes, God."